


Sie Sieht Gut Aus

by HansBlanke



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Alternate Universe - Music, F/M, I Ship It, I Wrote This To Rammstein, Not Beta Read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 13:19:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30039282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HansBlanke/pseuds/HansBlanke
Summary: "Be worth my time" is the first rule when you have business with Dukat.
Relationships: Damar/Tora Ziyal
Kudos: 2





	Sie Sieht Gut Aus

**Author's Note:**

> This began when I started DS9 and was waiting for the Cardassians so much because I thought Damar looked cool and rough and that his voice should sound the same. Basically, I was expecting some lizard version of Till Lindemann. The moment Damar opened his mouth my dreams were shattered, and I don't like the character at all, but the idea was still there, so I made up a universe where he is a lizard metal musicial because I can.  
> Also, this is a huge fuck you to SoMeOnE who promised me to draw this for two years and just never did. If you want things done, do them yourself.

The small communicator buzzed at the least convenient moment, but Damar knew better than to decline a call from Dukat. “Hello?”

“How’s it going?” the man demanded. Sure it wasn’t about how Damar’s day had been.

“I’m meeting the deadline. The big parts are done; I’ve finished the ending this morning. The transitions need some attention, but they never take me long.”

He looked a bit weird speaking about music. He didn’t look artistic; there was nothing special about him, except for his acquaintance with Dukat. 

In some other life, Damar would have made a common soldier. But Cardassia’s days of military glory had come to an end the moment a neighbouring world refused to be conquered and summoned help from some freaky Federation of Planets. Cardassia let the enemy become stronger and paid its price by a total demilitarization gently forced on them, so that a would-be soldier looked at his would-be leader— 

No. Dukat _was_ a leader; he wasn’t suited for anything else. And there was everything special about him except for his greed for power. 

The man loved saying that if you can’t have the enemy’s head, you can at least have their money. Ever since he set up his mind for a conquest of that kind, he posed as if he had no other worry than to ram his bread and circuses's way into the Quadrant. And he was oh so cruel in doing that.

Art was just one of the many things he used for that. He’d borrowed a long since outdated music style, saying it was just aggressive enough to have a chance on Cardassia, just as easily as he wrote down some of Damar’s words. “Good. Anything new?”

“Got an idea for a nice solo.” The amount of times Damar had said that to himself had made him sick. Dukat, however, was pleased. “It’s very extendable, I can base a track on it and make it real nice and long. You’ll like it. I think I’ve really grasped that stone style—”

“How many times do I say it’s _rock_ , not _stone_?” Still, it made Dukat laugh—an unusual reaction from someone so rational, so set on the idea that every second he spent on something should pay off.

“That’s the next thing I’ll be trying to grasp. Now that’s—wait—” 

There was a pause as a girl with rich black hair blocked the view. She jumped into Damar’s arms, and the picture shook as he caught her in mid-air. She stuck out her tongue, not a bit ruffled, demonstrating a fresh piercing, and gave him a wide smile. “Cool you’re still here. Took me—ouch! Fook me yearf waifin’ for my furn an’—”

Dukat coughed gently.

She looked down at the comm on Damar’s wrist, her tongue still out. “Hi Dad.”

Damar frowned. “Know what, baby, I’ll just finish this and be all yours, okay?”

She hopped down on the ground. He put a hand exaggeratedly high on her back, just where her ridiculous short jacket ended, and moved her out of the view as gently as he could. 

Dukat was silent and squinted for a moment. Damar knew exactly what this look meant. His arms had just been full of Tora Ziyal, her father's richest bastard, already well worth the time and money the man had obviously been spending on her. The leather jacket he’d just touched was worth a small fortune, “‘cause enemies’ skin never comes cheap, you know”. Not to mention he was closer in age to her father than the girl herself. Not to mention she had the best measurements in the city and always sauntered around like the whole world was her stage—not that it wasn’t.

Even if Dukat’s objections weren’t the problem so far, something else was. This little incident, Damar thought, had just increased his working time by ten percent. Could be all of twenty if Dukat thought there was a chance of marriage. Let’s be honest, having a Bajoran mistress was one thing and marrying the kid of someone’s Bajoran mistress was a totally different one— 

To put it short, Damar was playing with fire.

The good thing was, Dukat obviously felt it wasn’t the only thing Damar could play. “We’re finished so far,” he said, still squinting. “And so should be you, in two days, as you well remember.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Don’t you ‘sir’ me.” And Dukat hung up before Damar could say goodbye.

That was not very common of him. Damar watched the screen for a couple moments, trying to figure out what it meant. An incoming message was his answer.

It read simply and politely, “You break her heart, I break your neck.”

Twenty it was.


End file.
